


look at me, my prince

by Catsby



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Almond Oil as Lube, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Creampie, Deepthroating, Gardener Suh Youngho | Johnny, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Prince Mark Lee (NCT), Secret Relationship, slight spit kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27988605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsby/pseuds/Catsby
Summary: Really, they haven’t been particularly subtle, but Mark still doesn’t want to get outright caught and risk himself getting disowned and Johnny getting fired—or worse, banished.Though, whether or not the king can actually banish someone over fucking his youngest son in the ass in the garden every other night is a mystery to Mark.Still, not one he’s eager to solve.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 18
Kudos: 409





	look at me, my prince

"Your highness."

That voice came so soft and so much warmer than the sunshine, that Mark initially thought it to be a dream. From where he lay among the grass, eyes closed and skin dappled with the sun's gleam peering through the tree branches overhead, he merely smiled to himself. Perhaps if he focused well enough as he drifted to sleep, he could imagine a face to accompany that sweet tone.

A sparrow chirped its pretty song through the garden, and a cicada sang along. For a while, this relative silence hung in the air, and Mark soaked it in along with the midday warmth.

And then, the sound of a throat being cleared, followed by the slight shift of a shadow being cast over his eyelids.

“Your _highness,_ ” that voice came again, with a newfound urgency.

Mark startled at the distinct reality of it and sat bolt upright, eyes flashing open wide. He craned his neck to look up at the man standing over him, and, for that brief moment in which their eyes first met, he found himself completely breathless and taken.

Johnny, as he’d learn later from his advisor, was a new hire. His flower shop in town had been shut down due to recent hard times, so Johnny came to the palace and inquired about tending the garden, of which the former queen was so fond. Apparently, according to Doyoung, he was hired in a heartbeat, his work known well throughout the kingdom.

That day they met was Johnny’s first as the royal gardener. Mark could only imagine the sort of fright he must’ve got stumbling upon the youngest prince shirking his responsibilities to doze amongst the bushes and flowers.

The memory brings a smile to Mark’s face as he rests on his elbows and knees in that very same grassy spot now, only four months after the fact, absentmindedly wondering how it came to this as Johnny works him open from behind with two thick, calloused fingers.

A particular jerk of those fingers inside him has the young prince’s mind momentarily blanking of any thoughts of the past or in general, his mouth falling open around a short gasp. He feels his thighs tremble, hears Johnny chuckle low behind him, and bites his lip to contain an embarrassed whine. Even so late that the North star shines brilliant overhead, the summertime air is suffocatingly hot, laying a dewy sheen of sweat over Mark’s skin, but his face flushes now for another reason entirely.

Johnny’s always so smug when they do this, so eager to equal parts tease and please, and no matter whether it’s the fifth time they’ve met this week or the first, Mark finds it incredibly overwhelming. It makes him melt inside and out, and, unfortunately, that only seems to fuel Johnny’s antics.

Such is evident by the way he hums pleased and deep against Mark’s damp skin while laying open-mouthed kisses over the small of his back, all while twisting and curling his fingers inside the young prince in just the right away to have him shaking and biting his forearm to muffle a keen.

“Oh, sh—shit,” he groans against his arm and urges quietly, impatiently, “h-hurry, Johnny, _fuck._ ”

They have to finish this before Doyoung checks in on the prince and puts two and two together to realize what his empty bed and open balcony door mean. Doyoung’s been suspicious of them recently, of how much time Mark’s been spending in his late mother’s garden when he wouldn’t step foot inside but a few months ago, and of how Johnny tends to wander to the courtyard to maintain the already perfectly kept bushes there while Mark’s training.

Really, they haven’t been particularly subtle, but Mark still doesn’t want to get outright caught and risk himself getting disowned and Johnny getting fired—or worse, banished. Though, whether or not the king can actually banish someone over fucking his youngest son in the ass in the garden every other night is a mystery to Mark. Still, not one he’s eager to solve.

He rocks back against Johnny’s hand and murmurs another shaky plea, partially because of his fear of getting caught, but mostly because he’s _aching_ to have something more inside him. He voices as much on a breathy whisper, and that earns him a hushed groan and an uttered “fuck” before Johnny’s fingers are easing out of him, only to be replaced just moments later by exactly that “more” he wanted.

“O-Oh,” he gasps as Johnny bottoms out, and his hand quickly finds the older man’s wrapped around his hip, fingers pressing bruises into his skin. Johnny lets go just to interlock their fingers, and then he’s pulling out, the slow drag of his thick cock against Mark’s inner walls drawing an involuntary moan from somewhere deep in Mark’s chest, “ _Ohh—_ ”

Johnny surges forward to slap his spare hand over Mark’s mouth to muffle his voice as he begins fucking into him, quickly taking on an easy but solid pace that has the body below him rocking forward with each thrust.

Mark keens against Johnny’s palm and drops his hand from his lover’s for stead, digging the heels of his palms into the dirt so he can push back against Johnny’s hips in time, with purpose. He relishes the soft, strangled and breathy “fuck” that earns him, lips curling into a very self-satisfied smile.

Of course, Johnny feels it and quickly stamps out the young prince’s smugness by shoving his thumb in past Mark’s lips and teeth, quickly finding a spot between his back molars to prop his jaw open as he moans startled and open into the air.

For anyone to hear.

“If you want to play dirty, we can, your highness.”

Johnny’s voice low beside his ear sends a shudder down Mark’s spine, and he forces himself to choke back another moan, only a weak whine coming out in its stead. His throat feels tight trying to contain his own voice as he’s fucked silly from behind, and it only feels tighter when Johnny’s free hand comes up to wrap around his neck.

He doesn’t squeeze, rather just letting it rest there as his pace slows to nothing more than a deep grind, his hips slick against Mark’s ass with sweat and the almond oil they use for lubricant. It’s all a clear show of dominance, and though Mark sees straight through it, it still has him damn near shaking apart, thighs and arms trembling under the heat of it all and Johnny’s leaning weight. He exhales a hot whine around Johnny’s thumb and hears him hum a thoughtful response.

“You going to be good?” Johnny mumbles, lips spelling the words out in a kiss to the nape of his neck, and when Mark gives the slightest nod of his head in return, he can feel the way Johnny’s mouth curves with satisfaction. “That’s a good boy.”

With that, Mark’s mouth is stuffed with three thick fingers as a reward, and he sucks at them in earnest as Johnny returns his hand to his hip and picks the pace back up, fucking into his tight heat to chase their highs while still taking care to not recklessly slap skin on skin and give them away.

Mark truly wishes Johnny could just throw caution to the wind and fuck him how they _both_ want, but as it is now, as _they_ are now, they have to be careful. Still, the prudence doesn’t make the whole thing any less satisfying, as before long, Mark is mumbling moans warning of that impending tightness in his abs and drooling sloppy and unashamed over Johnny’s fingers, losing himself in it all.

He cums with Johnny’s fingers on the back of his tongue, the older whispering encouragement and praise into his skin as he shakes and chokes, his cock spilling a pearly mess over the blades of grass below him. He whines through his nose as he steadily comes down from his peak, and Johnny fucks him through it all the way, pace now slowed and gentle but still quickly turning too much with the way his cock rubs over Mark’s prostate with every torturous draw in and out.

He mumbles something wet that barely sounds like words until Johnny gets the message and pulls his hands back, easing out at the same time. The drag against his sensitive rim makes Mark hiss, as does the all too abrupt emptiness, but he quickly remedies both with a distraction, turning around to rather unceremoniously push Johnny to sit back against the tree trunk so he can drop to his elbows once more and swallow his cock to the back of his throat in one smooth, well-trained move.

Moments like this make Mark think that being born without a gag reflex is single-handedly one of the best things to ever happen to him, just because of how much he _loves_ the noises Johnny makes when he swallows him down.

Before they met, he’d never sucked cock before. Partially because he’s a prince and princes have certain reputations to uphold, and he doesn’t think anyone in the court would take too kindly to rumors of their youngest sucking off every man who crosses his path.

But also simply because he never had any cock available to suck.

Now, he doesn’t know how he ever lived without having a cock shoved down his throat.

More specifically, he doesn’t know how he ever lived without _Johnny’s_ shoved down his throat.

Johnny tastes like a heady mixture of earth and almonds, and Mark can’t get enough. He never can. He holds onto Johnny’s thighs as he bobs his head, every time taking him til the tip nudges the back of his throat and he can feel Johnny’s precum drip down. He swallows it all happily, for once not caring about the lewd noises that disrupt the midnight air as he dedicates his whole self to getting Johnny there and back.

It’s sloppy, filthy, but Mark knows Johnny likes it this way. He remembers how messy he was when they first tried it, even more so than it is now, and how fucked out Johnny looked when Mark pulled back with cum and spit all over his chin and on his lips. He remembers how Johnny kissed him then just to taste himself on his tongue, like some sort of sick and possessive game, and how he whispered endless praise littered with swears in such a husky, aroused voice like Mark had never heard from him.

Johnny _loves_ it dirty, just like this, with Mark drooling down his shaft, spit wetting the black hairs around his base, dripping over his balls. He loves it even more when Mark makes an absolute point to pull back and _spit_ on his tip, smear it with his palm, and stroke him slow and long, up and down, before swallowing him again with another downright obscene noise.

With his efforts, it doesn’t take much longer for Johnny to wheeze a telling “fuck” under his breath and tug urgently on Mark’s hair, fingers tangled in those black, sweat-dampened locks.

Mark pulls back and lets his mouth fall open and his dripping wet tongue hang out expectantly, eagerly awaiting what’s to come, but what he gets this time instead is something completely new.

“Turn around,” Johnny orders in a low voice, tone raw with lust as he strokes his loose fist along his shaft in place of the prince’s mouth, and Mark shakes off his brief confusion to do as he was told, easily getting into position on all fours with his ass to Johnny.

A startled gasp tears from his throat when he feels the head of Johnny’s cock press and then just barely breach him. He curls his fingers into tight fists to grip the slick blades of grass and closes his eyes, letting his head hang between his arms and his mouth fall open around soundless moans as he focuses on the feeling of Johnny’s fist bumping his rim with every frantic stroke of his shaft.

“I’m close, baby,” Johnny warns in a low, strained voice.

Mark tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and presses back just enough to impale himself deeper on Johnny’s cock, but his movements are quickly halted by a broad hand cupping the oil-and-sweat-slicked globe of his ass and holding him in place, short nails biting crescents into his skin.

“Stay,” Johnny tells him breathlessly, and then, “look at me.”

And again, Mark is happy to obey.

He turns to look over his bare shoulder at Johnny through hooded eyes, and just like that first day they met, he finds himself positively breathless at the sight of him. Johnny’s broad form looming behind him, skin shiny with sweat under dappled moonlight, a flush high on his cheekbones and just under honey puddles eclipsed by blown pupils, dark hair damp and mussed from earlier tugging and pulling and tangling—it’s all so much that Mark loses himself in it, in Johnny, watching captivated as he comes unraveled behind and inside of him.

Johnny ducks his head with one last throaty groan, and Mark gasps but still doesn’t look away as he feels Johnny’s sticky heat fill him. It’s shallow, so shallow that he can feel it leak out around the head of Johnny’s cock and slide thick down his taint, but Johnny quickly fixes that, pulling out just to scoop his cum up and finger-fuck it back in.

Those two fingers pushing and stirring that hot mess deeper inside of him makes Mark fall to his elbows, a short and shameless moan huffing from his lungs, but he still maintains the wherewithal to find Johnny’s eyes with ease when he at last glances up.

Gaze not drifting an inch, Johnny leans forward and catches Mark’s mouth over his shoulder, swallowing the sweet moan he lets out when that sinful tongue slips in to lick at the back of his teeth and taste the traces of almond oil and sweat sticking on the roof of his mouth. Mark’s hand comes up to twist in Johnny’s hair, and he holds him firmly in place until they _have_ to part, breath mingling in the small gap between their mouths as they pant together, noses just touching, staring deep into each other’s eyes.

Then, Mark cracks, fondness tugging on his lips and bubbling a giggle from his chest.

Johnny is quick to follow, smiling and chuckling along as Mark’s fingers drift from his hair to find his ear instead, tugging lovingly at his lobe. He tips his chin to land one more kiss to Mark’s lips before pulling back, ignoring the whine that earns him as he stands to gather his clothes from the pile they left at the base of the queen’s old and grand oak tree.

“Get dressed, your highness,” he tells Mark with a playful sternness and reaches down to smack his ass just to hear him whine another complaint.

“I’m expected to wear clothes with your cum leaking out of me?” Mark shoots back, cutting his eyes over his shoulder in the direction of his lover. He puts on his best puppy dog eyes, half hoping Johnny might have mercy and steal him away to his room so they might bathe and rest together.

But, much to his frustration, Johnny barely looks up from where he’s buttoning his fly, merely humming in response. “Yes, exactly.”

Pursing his lips, Mark pushes himself up to stand on unsteady legs and looks pointedly at Johnny, less pleading and more accusation, trying to conceal his embarrassment as he feels cum slick down the back of his thigh. “And if someone stops me? Asks me why I’m sweaty and walking strange?”

That makes Johnny pause, fingers halting halfway through buttoning up his shirt. He looks at Mark, stares at him for a long and hopeful moment, and then smiles innocently. “Better not get caught then, huh?”

Mark huffs a laugh and takes his pants when Johnny offers them. He holds onto the older as he puts them on, Johnny helping in the way of holding his hips possessively, distractingly tight to keep him balanced and then kissing him stupid and breathless while tying the drawstring around his waist.

He does the same while buttoning Mark’s silk sleep shirt for him, and before the prince knows, he’s backed up against the tree’s solid trunk, Johnny’s tongue halfway to his throat and his thumbs rubbing his nipples through his shirt, big hands curved around the sides of his ribs. He only comes to his senses when Johnny slips a hand down the front of his pants, previous efforts of tying the drawstring in a cute, neat bunny-ears bow forgotten in favor of wrapping his fist around Mark’s half-hard cock.

“J-John—” Mark gasps and tries to pull back from the kiss, fingers fumbling for purchase against Johnny’s shoulders, but he’s quickly silenced again by a pair of lips slanting against his and a tongue tracing the points of his teeth.

His muffled noises quickly grow more desperate as Johnny strokes him sloppy and fast in his sleep pants, wet and indecent noises filling the garden’s air once again. When he finally cums with a barely audible moan, his legs jelly and threaten to give out under his weight. Thankfully, Johnny’s right there to catch him, pinning him up against the tree and holding him in place with his whole broad body, hands again on his chest and knee hiked between his thighs to let Mark grind through his orgasm.

When they part this time, Johnny’s the first to crack a smile. “I think you’ll need new pants.”

“No shit,” Mark huffs a laugh and quickly drowns Johnny’s chuckles by kissing him one more time.

\-------------

When Mark at last makes it to his room after finding the halls thankfully free of patrolling royal guards and one particular advisor, he wastes no time in stripping down and walking into his bathroom to draw a warm midnight bath by candlelight.

He hadn’t realized just how dirty he’d gotten until he catches sight of his reflection out of the corner of his eye and pauses to take inventory. Dirt smears his skin here and there, mostly on his elbows, palms, and knees, and his nails are just as filthy. His hair looks like he took a bath and then rolled around like a dog to dry it off, strands sticking to his forehead and pointing out this way and that in a wild mess. And, possibly most telling of all, he reeks of almonds.

Of course, there is also the fact that the back of his thighs are smeared sticky and grossly slick with cum, but so long as he keeps his front to the mirror, he looks more like a hooligan who got in a fight and rolled about in the dirt than a scandalous royal who just got his brains fucked out.

He stands there, scratching at the short hairs on the back of his head, and chuckles fondly at the small hickey he spots on the slope of his shoulder, a parting gift from Johnny. No doubt it’ll fade in an hour’s time, but for now and for the entirety of his bath, he treasures it.

He knows well what it means, his ring finger yearning as he strokes a soapy rag over the bruise with care. Maybe it’s foolish to be so completely willing to commit after such a short amount of time together, but Mark can’t ignore his emotions. He can’t indulge them for now, not until his older brother takes the throne, but he certainly can’t ignore them.

And based on the fact that every night he returns to his room, he finds a bruise in that very same spot, it’s evident Johnny can’t ignore them either.

When Mark steps out of his bathroom, wrapped up in only a fluffy towel, his eyes immediately land on a sheet of paper on his pillow. It startles him, as he certainly didn’t hear anyone enter while he was bathing, which means he must’ve missed it with how frantic he was coming in earlier. His approaching steps are cautious, as though he half expects the thing to spring alive like a snake from a bush, and he physically cringes in nervous anticipation as he unfolds the paper to read the words that have been awaiting him.

_Your Highness,_

_Don’t bother returning Chef Moon’s almond oil. He was planning to bake muffins with it in the morning, but I’ll tell him to wait until someone’s able to run to the market._

_Also, no more late nights, especially not in Her Highness’ beloved garden. Have you no shame? I’ll prepare a room, just let me know when you two would like to entertain yourselves._

_Go to bed._

_Doyoung._

Mark doesn’t know whether he should feel thankful or ashamed, but he smiles all the same, his cheeks flooded with a burning warmth and his chest with a giddiness like he hasn’t felt before. He collapses into the soft comfort of his bed and sighs, tucking the short letter away and making a mental note to show it to Johnny tomorrow, knowing he’ll get a total kick out of it.

As he lies there, he remembers one last time how Johnny looked the first day they met, standing over him with a spotty halo of sunshine behind his head and an amused tilt to his mouth. To think such a promise would be eventually formed from that moment, from that smile —it’s a little wonderful in the way that Mark sometimes wonders if he’s perhaps still lying under that tree, soaking in the sunshine and daydreaming about a mysterious man with a sweet voice.

Then he touches the bruise on his shoulder, feels the faint warmth there under his skin, and buries his face into his pillow to hide his delight from the world.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my docs for MONTHS just waiting to be proofread and finally here we are :D
> 
> i hope everyone enjoyed! i had so much fun rereading it, im actually rlly happy w how it came out!! <33
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/longerassride) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/catsbyy)


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